


Mise en Place

by eruriotica (minxiebutt)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol, Frottage, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7624378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minxiebutt/pseuds/eruriotica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way that Erwin and Levi share a residence, share a kitchen, a bathroom, a bed, and bodily fluids isn’t anyone else’s business when it could see one of them defrocked. </p><p>For NSFW Eruri Week</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mise en Place

**Author's Note:**

> written for Heather

 

“Don't you look fit to be tied, Colonel.”

 

At those words, Colonel Erwin Smith turns. He's been so preoccupied with watching the soldiers of the Survey Corps mingle with those from the Garrison and Military Police that he hadn't felt the body position itself next to him. Standing there with his head just at Erwin’s shoulder is Levi Ackerman, all dark hair, dark looks, and in desperate need for a strong drink, according to the tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. 

 

“Do I?” Erwin asks in response, even though he knows Ackerman doesn’t speak just to fill the silence. He speaks with purpose, even when he ends up in a weird, indecipherable ramble. Consciously, Erwin relaxes the muscles of his face, and beside him, Ackerman gives his small nod of approval. The noirette himself is looking murderous, but that is no different than everyday, so it’s hardly worth calling out.

 

“Over or under,” Erwin starts, observing the ballroom. Many of the privates are from the same trainee camp, and from the same year, so right now the air is jittering with reunion. It won’t take long, Erwin knows from experience, for it to delve into less than friendly exchanges. Right now, he’s watching a sea of cream and gold dress uniforms, the only differentiating element their coloured cords, sharing stories. Soldiers from all divisions have their mobiles out, showing off photos of families, pets, people new, and people familiar. Judging by the way small huddles of men pass around a phone and bite their lower lips, pictures of sexual conquests are being shown off, too. Now, it’s all good cheers of ‘how’ve you been?’ and ‘you’ve hardly changed a day.’ 

But soon, Erwin knows from years and years of attending these parties, talk creeps into work; inevitably, it's a game of my-horse-is-bigger-than-your-horse. And when that happens, the ever-increasing pony show starts, each division painting a picture of plight worse than the last. Soon, those ponies will simmer into a collection of political opinion soapboxes based on what each division strives for. And then, Erwin knows, as sure as he’s seen the sun rise every day for the last fifteen years, fists will fly. 

 

The only variable is time.

 

Erwin quarters turns to Ackerman, who continues to stand facing forward. Last year, Erwin had no one to make bets with. Last year, he was a lonely colonel in a sea of subordinates, with the dark-haired man at his side then a sergeant. But this year, however, Ackerman is a freshly commissioned warrant officer, and this isn’t quite fraternisation anymore. 

 

Erwin watches as Ackerman gives him the side-eye over the glass he presses to his lips, while Erwin continues, “Two hours and ten minutes until I’m writing negative counsellings.”

 

Ackerman finishes the sip of his drink and scans the crowd, before deciding to take the under. “Last year, it was one hour and fifty-nine minutes, if I remember correctly.”

 

“You do,” Erwin said. 

 

Over the course of an hour, the pair drifts in and out of conversation circles, and Erwin counts one too many new tumblers in Levi's grasp. The small warrant officer doesn't drink often, but when he does, he can usually hold his own fairly well. In fact, in six years, Erwin's only seen him  _ drunk _ once, and he briefly thinks that's what Ackerman is aiming for tonight. No, nevermind, Erwin recalls. That  _ one time _ involved a very expensive, very large bottle of bourbon. Ackerman seems to be nice and relaxed after an hour; comments that usually earn a smart remark from him are going unanswered. 

 

Erwin, on the other hand, really does feel fit to be tied. He's on edge, as the clock ticks, knowing that it's going to be one of  _ his _ underlings that starts a fight. The Military Police are too smart to throw the first punch, and the Garrison know better than to get involved in a scuffle at all. That leaves someone from his group of hot-headed,  _ justice-driven _ individuals. 

 

They’ve been there ninety minutes, and there’s been not a single sassy statement from Ackerman, and Erwin suddenly realises how much he depends on that small humour in times of stress. He finds himself smoothing a hand down the front of his dress uniform repeatedly, as if he can siphon out the agitation building in his blood. Jaeger One and Jaeger Two are looking less and less friendly every time they defend their squadmates. 

 

In the end, Levi wins their bet at two hours and five minutes. Erwin takes names and calls cabs to shuttle his delinquent privates back to the barracks under the orders that they will remain in their rooms all weekend. He slams the last door on the last cab and Ackerman, who’s been standing behind him with silent disdain, announces, “I’m too drunk to drive now.”

 

Erwin snaps at him, because the last twenty minutes have been used to alternatively kiss ass and kick ass, “Is this really  _ my problem _ , Levi?”

 

Ackerman, to his credit, doesn’t even respond. He looks down at his wristwatch and hums an inquisitive sound to himself, and then he reaches into Erwin’s pants pocket and pulls out his modest set of personal keys, which he holds out for Erwin to take. 

 

No, now that Ackerman is a warrant officer, it isn’t quite fraternisation anymore (even though it really is), but it’s still nothing more than gossip outside of their close circle, around the battalion. The way that Erwin and Levi share a residence, share a kitchen, a bathroom, a  _ bed, _ and bodily fluids isn’t anyone else’s business when it could see one of them defrocked. 

 

“I’m too drunk to drive,” Ackerman reiterates, still holding Erwin’s keys out to him. There’s only three on the ring: vehicle, home, and mailbox. In the street lights outside, they glisten temptingly with Levi’s censored message.  _ Let’s go home _ . So, Erwin doesn’t say no. He kisses a few more overfed asses to make up for the brawl and then lets his veterans know that he’s about to make an exit. 

 

It’s a quiet drive home, their titles and responsibilities flying out the car windows as they go. Erwin ceases to be  _ Colonel _ or  _ Sir _ , and Ackerman is no longer  _ Ackerman. _ He’s strictly Levi again, freely so. Sometimes, when it’s early in the morning on a Monday and he’s spent the whole weekend with Levi’s legs wrapped around his waist, Erwin will almost call him by that exquisite given name. At work, he’s always got to correct himself, to police his thoughts. 

 

They’re not at work anymore.

 

Their front door shuts and locks behind Erwin and Levi grabs him by the lapels and pushes him onto the couch. Erwin lands on the plush cushions. Levi kicks off his dress shoes (those scuffs will need to be polished) and stands on the coffee table (that’ll need polishing again, too) in front of Erwin. The blonde sits back in anticipation, because if Levi is climbing on furniture, then he has a truly substantial amount of alcohol in his blood. 

 

Levi takes to shedding his dress uniform like a snake shedding skin, and Erwin is expecting him to be nude. He’s not. The jacket comes off his arms and drops behind the other side of the coffee table, joined quickly by the white button down, and beneath Levi’s undershirt, Erwin can see  _ frillies _ . The tee comes over Levi’s head, joining the rest of his discarded clothing, and then he’s exposed from the waist up. 

 

Oh, he’s outdone himself. A bright red lacy bralette lays flat against his chest-- an accessory meant to punctuate breasts is useless on him, but gorgeous to see nonetheless. Below the lacy long line of the bralette, Erwin sees the beginnings of a matching garter belt hugging the thinnest part of the noirette’s waist. Levi works at his belt and his pants drop to the table. He steps out of them and kicks them away. He’s got on red stockings-- no, red fishnets, and Erwin can see the delicate thong holding his cock in place. 

 

The red does two things: it pales Levi’s already snowy expanse of skin, and it draws attention to the wiry hairs that start at his navel and trail, multiplying, south. He looks porcelain and breakable and so  _ delicate  _ with his pallor intensified. But at the same time, Erwin finds his eyes drawn to the hairs dusting his inner thighs around where his balls are nestled safely. 

 

He doesn’t ask Erwin for his opinion, and probably doesn’t care to hear it anyway. Levi likes to be shown, because words mean so little when they can be recanted. He steps from the table to the sofa, his stockinged feet in the cushions on either side of Erwin’s thighs, and it puts his groin at level with the blonde’s face. 

 

Erwin looks up the planes of Levi’s abdomen and chest and catches his eyes as Levi is looking down at him. “You had this on the whole time,” Erwin accuses. “You planned to take advantage of my--”

 

“Yes,” Levi says, bored, as if this is really something that needs to be said. 

 

“Why’d--”

 

“You need to relax,” Levi supplies. “I’m all gussied up in my proverbial red bow, Erwin, for your enjoyment.” He sets his hands on Erwin’s shoulder and begins to knead at him through his dress uniform, but makes no clues as to whether he wants Erwin naked. There’s something powerful, Erwin knows instead, about being clothed in formal get-up while the whole of Levi’s flesh is on display like a gift. 

 

“You’re right.” Erwin’s right hand brushes its way up one decorated thigh to Levi’s cock, stroking the back of it with his thumb where it’s held in place by the hosiery. They’re not exactly young men anymore, and Levi’s been drinking, but surprisingly, he rises to attention quickly. Erwin doesn’t get overly excited at the sight of his lover’s dick as it grows until it strains against its bindings. He continues his steady movements, lightening his touch more and more, until Levi is rocking into him, chasing the pressure offered by those feathery touches, and squeezing his shoulders. 

 

“Let’s do it like that,” Erwin says, and then backtracks to explain. He curves his hand to follow the line of the cock at his mercy and cups it loosely. “I’m going to hold you like this, and I want you to make yourself cum.”

 

Levi’s arousal is only just awoken, so he’s coherent when he starts. He rocks with rhythm against Erwin’s palm, rubbing himself in all the right ways. His mouth is but a tight line slicing his face, and his eyebrows are pulled in close in concentration. Imperceptibly at first, then obvious, his thrusting catches fervor, and in less than a minute, he’s grinding against Erwin’s palm as he chases his release. Levi’s mouth is open, soft pants escaping, his face slack with pleasure. The staccato sets in, and then he cums, the spurts of semen trapped in his lingerie like a wild animal on exhibit. 

 

Levi sounds like a chirping bird when he finds his release, a litany of ‘ah’s falling from between his lips and strung together like birdsong. It’s a divine sound, so natural and yet so out of place for him. 

 

Levi doesn’t collapse onto Erwin like he normally might, mindful of the uniform because  _ fuck, Erwin, every time we get these things dry cleaned, I have to spend seven hours getting the medals just right _ . So, Levi lowers himself from the sofa and sits on the coffee table, their knees touching. He looks sated but unspent, and Erwin knows that Levi isn’t done yet. He didn’t get himself so pretty for Erwin to frot for a few minutes and go to bed. 

 

“Now?” Levi asks, sounded just over the fence of breathless.

 

“Now,” Erwin growls, snaking out of his own skin, standing, “I’m going to unwrap you.”


End file.
